


What We Don't Know

by Malind



Category: Wanted (2008), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Strangers to Lovers, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-05-14 05:52:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5731798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malind/pseuds/Malind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a day like any other for Charles. That was until a mirror image of himself found his way inside the mansion to confront him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Don't Know

**Author's Note:**

> Charles and Wesley are brothers here so, yes, incest to be found here. This is a merging of both worlds. The decade this takes place doesn't really matter for this story since I'm just going to be dwelling on their relationship. This does take place after both movies though.
> 
> Disclaimer: The X-Men characters and universe are owned by Marvel. The Wanted characters and universe are owned by Universal Pictures. I make no profit from this fanfiction.

**Chapter 1: Mystery Guest**

 

He knew him. Well, Charles knew his face at least. It was like looking into a mirror, a mirror that added scars, a hardness, as well as an insurmountable amount of rage that left Charles breathless. But underneath that rage was a sorrow and desperation. And love, even. Love for who, the telepath didn't really know, not with the man's mind so jumbled despite the valiant effort to focus solely on Charles.

The man edged up to him, and Charles let him even with the near threat in every footstep. After all, he was in as much awe as the other man was, if not more so.

"Do you know who I am?" The American accent took Charles back a bit, especially when it was his own voice otherwise.

"No... No, I'm afraid I don't. But..." Thoughts, that the telepath couldn't help pick up from the other man, confused him to the point that he wished he could block them out. But, at the same time, he wished the man wasn't so full of emotion, that the man's thoughts weren't so choppy so that he could make sense of them. He had little hope to be able to draw conclusions. The other man seemed as lost in the situation as he was.

"Does the name Cross mean anything to you?"

The name was nothing more than a fading memory, something he'd occasionally seen in his mother's mind when she'd thought about his adoption, but beyond that... "Very little," he said truthfully.

The doorknob rattled and then a solid knock rang on the study door. Hank's voice somehow managed to find its way through the heavy wood. "Professor, there's, ah, someone here to see you. He's, ah..."

"Thank you, but he's already managed to find his way in."

"Oh, okay... Are... Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm quite all right. Thank you."

Concern, confusion leaked from Hank's body but, a few seconds later, the man did manage to walk away. Charles followed his mind a few steps before turning his attention back to his mirror image.

Then he heard it: The word 'brother' came to the forefront of the other man's mind. If Charles had been breathless before, now he couldn't breathe at all, mostly because the other man seemed to completely believe the word applied to them.

The other man looked him over, fully. A pained grimace appeared on his face. "You're..."

"Yes, from an accident many years ago."

"I'm sorry." Their eyes met again. "I didn't mean to stare."

Stare? That was practically all they'd both been doing since the man had maneuvered his way through an open window.

"I saw you on the news, and..."

"You tracked me down."

"Yes. I mean... I realize this is probably going to sound ridiculous, but... I mean it is ridiculous, except for the fact that I'd been going through my father's belongings. Seeing you, before that, I probably would have just put it off as a really fucking weird coincidence. But I found a picture of when I was a baby. But I wasn't the only baby in the picture. On the back, it said Wesley and Charles. And then on the news, when you spoke to..."

Charles could barely feel his body anymore. Everything had gone numb, cold with the words and the other man's thoughts which organized before his mind.

It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. How could he have not known he had a brother? A twin brother at that. And what did that even mean? Could this man also have telepathy? ...No, his mind didn't feel out the way his own could, but as the other man's own tension increased with his, he could definitely feel something different about his mind. It almost felt like Pietro Maximoff's mind, but not so extreme.

His mirror image began to laugh, a harsh, decrepit sound that made Charles cringe. "The lies. All the fucking lies. To protect me? ...Us? My God, what..."

Blood stained the other man's mind, deaths that, at the time, Charles could tell had seemed so right. The regret this man felt over all of it and the path life had set for him - Charles was reaching out his hand before he realized he was doing it. His brother, if that was what he truly was, looked down at the hand and the telepath pulled it back to rest on the wheelchair's armrest. The man frowned at him, his mouth opening to say something, but nothing came out.

Charles pressed his lips together before he breathed, the words ragged, "Could... Could you tell me your name?"

"Wesley. Wesley Gibson. And I think our father wanted to protect you as much as he did me, but..." The man looked around the study briefly. "You seemed to have hit the jackpot. And I..." He hacked out a laugh that had little humor. "I don't even know how to live a normal life anymore. Half because I couldn't stand it if I did. And half because, well, honestly, I don't deserve one anymore. But... Please believe me. I came here to tell you - I mean, I came here to see you because I couldn't believe you're real. But I also came here to say that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. If you believe me, if -I- believe any of this, I-I didn't mean to kill our father. I was seriously trying to do the right thing. I thought I was."

Gleaming with a light layer of sweat from the stress of Wesley's turbulent thoughts and emotions, as well as his own, he swallowed and said, "I believe you."

This time, the hacked laugh was lined with suppressed relief, before Wesley looked near tears, his gaze jerking to the floor and his arms gripping himself in a tight hug. "And then, for him, because of him, I took control of my life, my fate. I did what he couldn't do. I killed the man who mind-fucked him and me and..." A woman appeared in his mind as well as the remorse and love Wesley felt for her. "I became stronger. I took her conviction. I did what I had to do." He grinned with a shake of his head. "I even moved on." He looked up again with piercing eyes. "But then I saw your face on the TV. And how can I have any conviction or anything after that?" An apologetic smile tried to break his sudden grimace. "I don't suppose you have alcohol in here?"

Charles pressed his lips together, but then wheeled over to a cabinet and took out a small glass and a bottle. By the time he filled it the man was at his side, taking it, drinking the whole thing down in a couple of gulps. Charles filled the glass again when it was shoved in his direction, and then pointedly put the bottle away.

Huffing, Wesley rolled the empty glass in his fingers and then, forcing Charles eyes to dart upwards to look at him, he brushed at long locks of hair. "You look so much like me. To think someone else is cursed with this face." The man grinned through his near tears. The grin molded into another pained grimace before he crouched down, resting his forehead and forearms on the armrest. His shoulders shook, and Charles knew the other man had finally released the blockade that held back his tears. Quickly, noises filled the room that confirmed that.

Breathing heavily, his hand trembling, Charles touched the side of the man's downturned head, his fingers weaving into wavy, but short hair, a large part of him still not believing the reality of the situation. A twin brother... Wesley leaned into the touch slightly, involuntarily seeking the warm comfort offered.

Charles couldn't say it was all right, to not worry, to move on, all of the things Wesley wanted to hear and, in turn, do. He didn't say the words because, despite the fact his brother wanted to hear them, Wesley wouldn't have been reassured by them, let alone taken them to heart. And that was apparently because of Charles. At that moment, he wanted to apologize until his last breath for something that wasn't really his fault.

Instead, he did as his mother used to do to calm him when he was still very young, pressing soft lips to the top of his brother's head, knowing it could never be enough to suppress either of their riled up emotions.

 

 

**Chapter 2: Salt**

 

At their closeness, the touch of Charles' lips, something he'd done without thinking, Wesley pulled away, looking up into Charles' face. The man blinked his confusion, streams of wetness on his face, his mind going haywire again but for a whole added reason.

His heart pounding, Charles watched back, unwilling to say anything, sure he'd only make the situation worse. Getting so little affection from his adoptive parents, he'd always been one to crave physical contact and offer it whenever he could, whether that contact was in bed or anywhere else really, and whether that contact was with a stranger, friend, or lover, never mind that he hardly touched anyone anymore. With this man though, that type of contact so soon was obviously unwelcome, and he should have known that already.

Wesley was up, walking away, rubbing his face, on the verge of pacing. But then he turned back around, raking a hand through his hair as they scrutinized each other.

Finally, the short-haired man's arms wrapped themselves into another blockading hug, as a weak smile worked its way onto his face, muttering, "You're taking this better than I thought you would. Me on the other hand..." His brows furrowed with the curve of his lips. "You believe me about all of this?"

"I'd know if you were lying."

"How?" A side of his mouth pulled up higher with his skepticism. "Are you psychic or something?"

"Something like that."

Wesley frowned at him, considering him. The only solace Charles could take from the expression was that the other man's emotions had calmed down considerably, enough so that they didn't pulse from his body uncontrollably. "Like what?"

"I'm a telepath and all that entails."

"A telepath? You can read my mind? Like right now?"

"If I had a choice, I wouldn't. It's like the world, well, to put it simply, it's like the world doesn't have a clue how to shut up."

Wesley grew quiet, even his breaths did, his frown never leaving. Finally his head shook. "I could have used that talent a few months ago. I mean, it could have... He might still be here. It would have been more useful than curving bullets."

"Curving bullets?" Even as Charles asked, he could see what Wesley meant in his mind and swallowed at the bloodiness that followed.

"I take it you haven't done it." Charles shook his head. "Well, our father could do it too, as well as other people. I honestly don't understand the physics of it. It just happens." His lips pursed. "How about: Does the world slow down for you, like slow motion?"

"No, but I can stop it, well, stop people, at least."

Brown brows shot upwards. "Can you stop me?"

Stop him? Charles didn't want to think about the reasons to stop him with the images of the other man's life already engrained in Charles' mind. He didn't want them to be true in the life he'd built up in the last few years.

Nonetheless, an uneasiness grew in Charles as he realized he might have been saying too much, revealing his strengths and weakness in a blatant manner to a man who had killed people with no mercy. He didn't truly know this man, know what Wesley was capable of, nor know what risk it was to have him in the school, at least not yet.

Wesley apparently noticed his sudden unintended withdrawal and accusing eyes when he asked, "What? I... Have I overstayed my welcome or something? Do you want me to leave?" To say it out loud, the words went against everything Charles believed and hoped for. But when Charles couldn't find the will to bring comfort to his lips, Wesley continued with, "I-I'm sorry. I just wanted to tell you want happened. And..."

The telepath didn't turn people away who sought his help. He never had, even as a child with Raven. That was, unless the said help entailed a severe lack of morals, but even then, his heart still wanted to help. So why couldn't he speak to Wesley? Fear? Denial?

When he realized the man was going to turn around slip back through the window, he found himself saying, "Stay. I would like you to stay."

"Stay?"

"I have bedchamber available near my own." He wasn't about to say out loud that it was so he could keep a closer eye on the other man. "You have nowhere to go."

"I do have a place."

"Well, no place you want to go."

Wesley pressed his lips together and Charles felt like he was looking into a mirror. "You want me to stay here?"

"Yes, I do."

"For how long?"

"As long as you like."

"I-I don't know. I don't think I would really fit in here."

Charles smiled. "I assure you, here, everyone fits in."

"What do you mean?"

"It won't take you long to figure it out."

"I..." Wesley trailed off with a shake of his head, his confusion and apprehension evident to any outsider. Charles could feel the desire in the other man to stay, as well as the fear. To want something one was afraid of, Charles could understand that dilemma completely. "I'll stay the night, if you'll let me. I was going to check into a hotel, but yeah, my plane leaves tomorrow. Is that all right?"

"Yes, of course, although you can stay as long as you wish."

"Do you always invite possibly crazy men to stay here?"

Charles smiled to show teeth. "If it pleases me."

The sudden burst of hungry emotion from his brother thudded Charles' heart, weakening his smile. He couldn't deny at that point that his brother, apparently his own blood, was probably as alone as he felt. And he felt that way despite the continuous buzz of people around him. He always had to hold himself back, after all, in the struggle to control his mind, to try to keep thoughts and emotions where they belonged. To the outside world, his ability probably seemed like a gift. To him, every minute left him wishing the world would go silent, just for a while, just so he could have a thought he knew was his alone.

"Come with me. I'll show you to the room."

When they entered the halls, it was obvious that Wesley, his mouth never closing completely, saw things far different than he'd expected to see. When they entered the elevator and the doors closed, he said, "They're..."

"Mutants? Yes. As am I. And if we truly are twins, I assume you are too."

"But my abilities were taught, well, except when things slow down, although I had to learn to control it." He walked ahead of the other man when the doors opened, and then waited for him outside. "I used to think what I was experiencing was panic attacks. That is, until I found out others could do it too."

"All humans have nearly identical genetic code. Only a few oddities make up our differences. That other people would have an ability similar to yours or mine, well, it's not unheard of. And, of course, some things can simply be taught, like you said."

They entered a wing of the mansion and he led Wesley inside a room a few doors down from the end. Wesley had his hands in his back pockets as he surveyed the expanse of the room, a gawking that had been with him since the first floor.

"You'll find the bathroom to the back left and a closet next to it with any linens and toiletries you might need. While the school does have housekeepers, I ask that you do your part and clean the messes you make."

A knock sounded on the open door. Charles turned around and moved to Hank's side, ready to smile at his friend, but it never made it to his face with the pieces he saw in his friend's mind.

"Could I speak with you, Professor?"

"Of course." He turned his head to Wesley. "Make yourself at home. I'll be back in a minute."

Wesley eyed them both but nodded. Charles offered him a smile, then exited the room, Hank closing the door behind them.

"Charles, do you know who that is? You're letting him stay here?"

"Yes, he's-he's my brother."

"Your brother? You -don't- have a brother. He could be anyone, a shape-shifter, a mind manipulator. You don't know who or what he is."

"Perhaps, but he believes what he's telling me. He may be able to hide his appearance, but he can't hide his mind if it's open to me."

"And you're so sure about that?"

Charles huffed with a shake of his head, his hands pressing against the sides of his forehead. "So what do you propose we do? What would satisfy you?"

"Charles, you're too open, too trusting. They're your most wonderful qualities, but they also have a good chance of making the wrong decision." Hank raked his hands through his own hair when Charles still wasn't convinced. "Look, get him to give me a sample of his DNA. I'll compare it to your own. At least then we can know if you're truly related."

"He might not. And mind you, my friend, he's only here for the night." Charles tried to offer a reassuring smile. "If it would make you feel better, I can spend it with him to be sure he does nothing unscrupulous."

"That's exactly what I'm worried about. I'd prefer it if you'd let someone else keep an eye on him."

Brunette brows raised. "Really. I'm not a child who needs protecting."

"This has nothing to do with age. You just... You're too, well, nice. You never want to see the bad in people until they have you against the wall with their hands at your throat. I'm not saying this man is bad, but until we know who he is... Please, just go with me on this one."

"I'll ask him. But there's no need to put a guard at the door. He's not a prisoner here." He wasn't about to mention the fact that the man was most surely a murder, one who'd never faced justice.

Well, perhaps he wasn't the best judge of character. Charles shrugged off the notion and reentered the room to see his 'brother' sitting on the bed, eyeing him when he came back in.

"He doesn't want me here, does he? I don't have to be here."

"I've already told you you're more than welcome to spend the night here. But..." He moved closer so that his knees were almost touching the bed. "We would like to verify that you are indeed my brother. We would just need a small sample. And I personally would like to know the truth. Would you be willing?"

Wesley pressed his lips together, scrutinizing him. His mind rolled through the consequences as the telepath watched. Charles heard the nod in his head before his head even moved and he smiled with it, relieved.

"If I'm not, I'm sorry for bringing you into this. If I'd just been able to talk to our father, if they hadn't used me to get to him, I believe he would have told me about you. He didn't have the chance to tell me anything. Except that he was my father."

Charles called for Hank in his mind, telling him to bring the equipment he needed. When the man came back, he turned around, and let Hank gather what he needed without intervention on his part. Wesley never put up a bit of a fight outside of his inner trepidation.

"I should have the results shortly, before supper. I'll let you know."

"Thank you, my friend."

Hank paused to look between them, his mind unable to process completely what he was seeing.

//It's all right,// Charles said in his mind.

Hank flashed a glance at him then smiled as he looked to the floor. //I hope so.// Then the man was gone, leaving the two brothers to themselves.

"So we just wait, I guess," Wesley said, rubbing his legs a bit.

"Yes, what else can we do?" He'd meant it lightly, but the other man took again to studying him, scrutinizing his every feature. It was then that he realized how close they were to one another, close enough to touch, hug...

The other man's mind went through similar thoughts, before he asked, //Can you hear me?//

Charles felt no ill will from Wesley with the question. The man just seemed genuinely curious. //Yes, I can.//

Wesley's eyes widened at the voice in his head. "Can you see everything in my head?"

"No, I can't simply rummage through it. It must be a conscious thought in your mind. Or an emotion."

"You can feel my emotions?"

"Yes."

"And you said you can't stop being in my head?"

"No, not completely... It's the same with everyone. Sometimes it's difficult to sleep at night because I hear so many voices. Before, it was much worse though. When I was a child, I was terrified. I thought I was going insane. I thought the voices were all in my head. But then I realized the voices belonged to other people. And after the accident... I lost so much, the people I love. And, well, my emotions destroy my control."

"So you try to not feel."

Charles smiled. "I try."

Wesley lifted a hand and brushed back Charles' long hair back on one side in an effort to get a better look at his face. A smile that mirrored Charles' own cracked. "It's so strange... This still doesn't seem real."

Then those fingers touched his cheek hesitantly, just the barest hint of skin, the man's eyes following his own fingers. Charles merely tried to keep his heartbeat under control. Well, that and grip the armrests tighter. The further the touch traveled to his chin, the surer the touch became, until Wesley was cupping his chin, bringing it up just a bit, but enough to strengthen Charles' intakes of breath. Wesley's brows came together before he released his jaw.

"I don't think you could not feel."

Unwelcome color came to his cheeks. "Like I said, I try not to." Trying to distract any attention from himself, he offered, "Would you like to play a game of chess to pass the time?"

Wesley obviously didn't want to let the conversation, the whole of it go, but his brows slowly unfurrowed and he mumbled, "Okay."

The sun had set before Charles heard Hank's mind call out for him, Charles already reaching out to any voice he could sense to distract himself from Wesley's strategic thoughts. //Yes?//

//He's your twin,// Hank said and nothing more.

"Charles?"

The telepath blinked at the name, refocusing on the man sitting on the other side of the board. It was their third game, one of which he'd won. At that point, it was a tossup. But now, he was beyond distracted.

"He said there's no doubt we're twins."

Charles wasn't expecting the smile that took over the other man's face, nor the burning emotions that came along with it. Wesley must have noticed his surprise as he said, "I'm sorry. It's just... It's just been a really long time since I had someone I could call my family."

The evening passed quickly as they talked and Wesley's mind slowly opened up for him. His twin talked little of his brutal training, but Charles could still see glimpses of it. He talked of his life, his job, his ex-girlfriend, what he remembered of the people who raised him. By one in the morning, both of them were lying on the bed on their backs, staring up at the stucco ceiling. By then, Charles felt no more shame or reluctance in feeling Wesley's mind. He relished in it, in fact, in the controversy that made up his brother's thoughts and motivations.

The hum of his twin's mind drifting over his own, thoughts he didn't bother to separate anymore which smoothed in the offer of sleep, Charles barely felt the touch at his cheek. Instead of feeling trepidation this time, he welcomed it, accepting what was offered to him, feeling the first traces of love grow in his own greedy heart and mind.

When he awoke to daylight cracking through the long windows, he was surprised to see Wesley beside him, partially because he was still there, but also because the man was carefully looking at him. Jumbled thoughts played with his groggy mind that he didn't understand.

With some effort maneuvering his legs, Charles laid on his side. "When is your plane?"

"A couple of hours ago."

"You should have told me. I would have set the alarm." Wesley merely looked at him, finally unnerving him. Charles mumbled, "Are you going to reschedule then?"

"I don't know. I... You said... Well, I know accounting. I could teach it, if you let me."

Raised brows showed Charles' disbelief. "You want to teach here?"

"If I left, what would I do with myself?" Wesley rolled on his side, looking into Charles' eyes. "You can't use me?"

"We can always use qualified teachers. But it's not solely my decision to make."

"You don't think they'd take me? You'd tell them what I've done, wouldn't you?"

"It's my responsibility to."

Wesley's teeth gritted and tightened the grip on the pillow under his head, trying to deal with his own life in his own head. A moment later, he whispered, "I'm not a horrible person. As least, I hope I'm not. What I did, I thought I was doing the right thing. I truly did. I thought I was saving people. But I know now how wrong I was to believe in it."

"I know. And the people here will accept you eventually, but honestly, it's probably not going to happen today, or even this week or month. But you can do other things."

"That doesn't involve children?"

"You do understand?"

"I do." Wesley shook his head within the limited mobility. "You just existing - So much has changed. I wish so many things had gone differently."

"As do I, but here we are, so let's make the best of it."

A smile perked up his twin's face and Charles matched it.

The days that followed proved Charles right. While the faculty didn't say the real reason directly to Wesley's face, they told him next year they'd see if they had an opening. The time in between was to be his unspoken probationary period. In that time, Wesley learned far more about gardening and lawn care than he'd ever cared to know. But the work kept him busy. Also during that time, Charles watched the man, the effort he put into everything he did, and found himself loving him all the more for it.

On a particularly hot day during the summer, Charles brought a drink out to the man, not expecting bare, tanned skin and strong muscles to be flexing in the sunlight. It took noticing Wesley's frown to realize he'd been staring. "I brought you something to drink."

"Oh, thank you, but I have a cooler with me."

"Of course, I just..."

The man smirked with a raised brow. "Just what?"

"Better safe than sorry?"

"If you say so," Wesley said with a grin. The man started shoveling white rocks again, moving them from the barrel to an empty spot. When Charles found he couldn't move, didn't want to move for some reason that he didn't want to identify, Wesley stopped again, resting his weight on the upright shovel, and eyed him. "Did you have something you wanted to talk to me about?"

The way the other man flexed, his strong muscles that'd only become stronger during his time there, Charles couldn't take his eyes away from this mirror image of himself, this hard, selfish man who in many ways was his opposite. But in others ways, his desire for family and for him, his brother, and his love for hard work, Wesley was so much the same.

"Charles?"

"No, nothing." Then Charles was shoving at his wheels before the other man could notice his quickened breath. It had to be the heat. It had to be his lack of good sleep. It had to be anything else than what it couldn't be. It couldn't be that he want to touch the man's skin in a way that no brother should, to test its strength, its hardness, to taste its salt.

He shook his head, trying to banish the lustful urge, but it seemed like the harder he tried, the stronger the desire became until he rolled himself into the shower and tried to lose himself in the heat there, heat he suddenly wished was his brother's.

 

 

**Chapter 3: Home**

 

"You have a group of secret, what, vigilantes, and I'm the one who's scrutinized?" Considering the high morals Wesley knew his brother had, he almost didn't believe the other man. Almost. But considering what his brother had shown him that day, it was next to impossible to deny something very unschool-like was going on at the Xavier Institute.

Charles leaned forward to frown at his brother. "Our goals are considerably different than your group's were. We strive for peace."

Wesley slouched back in the chair, his knees spread, as he scowled with a smirk. "Well, so did my group, before the man fucked it up because he loved his own life too much."

"Perhaps, but we don't seek that peace through murder."

"Are you saying no one in your group has killed someone?"

"We don't seek to kill people."

"But you have."

His voice already leaking frustration, Charles growled, "Wesley, just stop it."

The short-haired man smiled, some part of him enjoying getting his brother riled up, Charles a man who otherwise demanded such complete control over himself. "Charles, I have so much respect for what you do. When I compare our lives, well, there's really no comparison." Then he huffed out, "But, no offense, you need to get off of your high horse sometimes." When Charles took to glaring, Wesley's smile increased. "You know I still love you though."

Charles looked away, before his eyes closed, an exasperated smirk forming. Wesley took the moment to study his twin, a man he could have looked at for the rest of his life without getting bored, Charles' expressions and voice always pulling him in.

While the two of them looked the same to an outsider, to him, Charles looked completely different, in his pleased, frustrated, worried mannerisms, his easy smiles that hid his dire control, his intelligence that was defunct by his aspirations. Yes, they looked the same, but everything Charles was made him so different.

Even as he watched, the man's skin tinged pink, enthralling him. The man blushed so easily, well, at least he did lately, which only urged Wesley to draw them out. He'd never been one to tease before, but he couldn't help himself with this man he had a brotherly claim over.

What was Charles thinking though? What could make the man blush?

Had he teased another man in such a way, he probably would have sooner ended up punched than blessed with such a reaction. He wished he had some trace of his brother's ability so that he could find out what was going through his head.

And God, Charles was beautiful while dwelling in his emotions. The urge to feel the heat of that blush itched his hand, but he didn't lean forward. He'd stopped touching Charles months before when he'd realized that he'd been doing it far too much, that he wanted to do it for reasons other than morbid curiosity, because the contact felt good. Too good. And he wasn't about to bring Charles into another depraved part of his mind. If Charles had noticed, he'd never said anything. But then again, the man was a pro at selective denial.

The men relaxing alone in the quiet room, something they seldom did anymore with so many tasks to keep them busy, Charles opened his eyes to look at him, his jaw tense with a slight frown drawing in his features. Wesley realized then that the telepath had definitely caught his thoughts.

The ex-assassin opened his mouth to jest, retract, explain that his thoughts weren't what they seemed, but no sound came out. Heat rose by way of his suddenly racing heart. When Charles opened his mouth as well, Wesley blurted out, "I'm sorry. Just-just..." Just what? "Just forget about it. Please."

He didn't know whether to be grateful or scared when Charles said nothing about it. Instead, his twin nearly whispered, "Supper is nearly ready. Shall we head back upstairs?"

"Yeah, okay..."

As they ate, neither man spoke and eventually many people around the table seemed to take notice. Wesley tried to ignore them and just ate food he could barely taste. When he was done, his stomach fuller with fear and remorse than food, he excused himself and retreated to his room, trying to let sleep steal his mind.

It wasn't until hours had passed that he could no longer stand lying there wishing for a lobotomy. He walked down the quiet hallway, just a few door down, to his brother's room, his bare feet seeming overly loud as they padded. Worse, his knock seemed to shake the whole structure. He stood there, rubbing at his bare arms that chilled in the cool night air, wishing he'd thrown his shirt back on.

"Come in."

Wesley opened the door, nearly sure he was making a mistake doing this, but he couldn't help it. He didn't want to bring something so absurd between them, something that shouldn't have even existed in the first place.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you? I just wanted to... talk."

"Yes, I know. I couldn't sleep either. Just come in." The tension in his brother's voice made his heart pump harder than it already was because he knew he was the one who put the tension in him.

The short-haired man walked up to the bed, his twin's eyes taking in his every step in the near darkness. "Do you mind if I..."

"The bed is more than big enough," Charles said, shifting his body over with a bit more difficulty than a person with a fully functioning body.

Swallowing at his apprehension, Wesley laid down next to him, leaving a good foot of distance, and stared up, trying to gather his thoughts into something that made sense and didn't instantly mark him as some kind of pervert. Needless to say, it was a hopeless endeavor.

Saving him, cursing him, Charles muttered, "Let's just go to sleep."

As if Wesley could actually sleep with so much between them. Charles rolled his back to him. The ex-assassin turned his head and fought the urge to reach out and touch long locks that spread out over a pillow.

"Charles, I'm sorry."

"You say you're sorry too much."

The words, lined in affection, brought an involuntary heat. He rolled onto his side and his hand reached out of its own accord. Or at least that was what he told himself to allow the action. When he touched soft locks, a softer neck, he couldn't stop the rush of blood to his groin.

I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, he said over and over again in his mind, as if the phrase could invoke forgiveness by repetition alone.

This wasn't why he'd come here. He'd come to be rid of these feelings, not to act on them. But then all hope of restraint was lost when he realized the strength of Charles' quickening breaths. He propped himself up on his elbow so that he could look down on his brother. The telepath had his eyes shut tightly.

Wrapping his arm around Charles' torso, Wesley brushed his free hand over his cheek, more or less spooning him. "Charles?"

And then he couldn't move. Literally. It took him a panicked moment before he could actually move his chest to breath, but he still couldn't move the rest of his body, not even his mouth. Despite Charles' breathing nearing hyperventilation, slowly, he could move again and he pulled away, as much scared for Charles as what the man could do to him.

Hoarsely, Wesley muttered, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

Charles rolled himself onto his back, looking up at him with eyes that held so many emotions, but mostly fear and that deadened his raging heart.

Then came his final undoing. His twin reached up and cupped his cheek, his mouth cracking open, his chin tilting up, as if he wanted to kiss him. Surely it was his imagination, but that didn't stop him from carefully lowering his face until could brush his lips over his brother's.

Again pulling back a bit, Charles' breath increased to the point that Wesley was afraid he'd hyperventilate. The hand at Wesley's cheek shoved itself to the back of his head and pulled him down the short distance, grinding his mouth against his brother's, losing him in the man's heat.

His leg edged over his twin's groin and he moaned at the hardness he felt there through the thin fabric. Charles moaned with him, although Wesley didn't know if that was because the man actually felt it or because he was feeding off of Wesley's desire. Whatever the case, he ground his own cock against the man's hip, the motion dizzying him.

Pulling away slightly, breathing heavily, nearly hyperventilating himself, Wesley searched Charles' face as he whispered, "I want you."

Then Charles was pulling at his drawstring sweatpants and immediately grabbed his hard length, making him hiss. The strong strokes eroded any rational thought that this might be wrong. Especially when it felt so right. He dove down, kissing his brother aggressively, fumbling at his brother's pants so that he could rub the man's erection. He still didn't know if Charles could feel it, but he himself loved the feel of the hot hardness in his hand.

They pumped each other until it was all Wesley could do to not come. He pulled away then and got onto his knees, pushing off his pants, then kicking them off the rest of the way, before he straddled his brother. He spit into his hand, then his other one, working at Charles' length and his own hole. The telepath clawed at his thighs, muttering something under his breath, his eyes nearly closed. His desperation clear, Charles was too beautiful for words.

Without wasting any more time, he pressed the erection's tip into himself and pushed down. The burning sensation pulled out a groan as he took it took quickly, but he couldn't stop himself. As he bobbed, Charles matched every one of Wesley's gasps and moans with ones of his own. His focus so on his backside, it took sitting on his lover's groin to remember his own erection. At the thought, Charles gripped it and stroked it at a pace that made him crazy.

The attentions on both sides of his groin, as well as the sudden rushing into his mind of Charles' blinding desire, didn't give him much of a chance of containing himself. He came quickly, hard, hitting his brother's chest with streams of cum. Inside of himself, he felt Charles' erection twitch as the man called out with him, and he was sure his brother's cum found a home inside of him

Weak, spent, his mind bent in ways that wasn't normal, he couldn't sit up any longer and collapsed into the telepath's chest, his face at the crook of his neck, nearly suffocating himself on the pillow below. Charles' strong arms wrapped around him.

The length in him twitched again and he couldn't help his smile. He kissed the neck next to his face lingeringly, tasting his brother's salt.

For the first time since living there, he didn't feel like an outsider. He felt like he was home.

Wesley could hear Charles' smile when he said, "You are."


End file.
